


Sewing Spider

by schierlingsbecher



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Crossdressing, Fluff, M/M, Secret Santa, cheerleader outfit, for sci, sewing skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6134421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schierlingsbecher/pseuds/schierlingsbecher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Secret Santa Spideypool exchange - Lovely Sci wanted "Absolutely anything involving a certain cheerleader outfit" so here you go.</p><p>There is no logical reason why he’d fish Deadpool’s cheerleader outfit out of a box and take it home with him.<br/>In fact, there were only reasons why one wouldn’t do that.<br/>Yet Peter walks home clutching said outfit to his chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sewing Spider

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sciderman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciderman/gifts).



> I had the hardest time thinking of something to make you happy, dear Sci. Thanks to my great friends Marie and Katrin.
> 
> (I wrote this in so many little pieces that I feel like something is missing, please tell me in case im right, arrgghh *dies* I'm so nervous)

In Peter Parker’s life, nothing was normal. He tried to life with that as best as he could, but there were some things that one had a hard time accustoming to:  
People trying to take pictures of you whenever you swung over New York City. Trying to be nice and pose for people’s photos but secretly begging they don’t turn out any good because your other job, you know, the one you earn money with, is selling pictures of Spider-Man, aka you. People shouting insults at you while people tried to take pictures of you while you swung over New York City.

But these were every-day struggles you could still somehow brush off.

However, huge 15 feet monsters running around and smashing buildings were not so easily dealt with.

Peter had been on a regular patrol when he had seen a the back of what he first thought was a whale, but turned out to be a scaly beast that obviously enjoyed smashing buildings and shouting its name (“I AM GLOSBE FEAR MY MIGHT!”).

As he’d swung closer, he had spotted Deadpool trying to catch the attention of the... yeah, monster.

While that sight wasn’t really surprising, Peter to do a double take to see what Deadpool was wearing. Over his usual red and black suit, he was wearing what looked like a cheerleader dress, tight fit, swinging skirt and the big white letter D on his chest. He almost lost his grip on his webs.

“DEADPOOL!” he shouted over the screams from the monster, “WHAT THE HECK IS THAT THING?!”

“SPIDEY! Glad to see you!!” he gave back, jumping up and down, making the fabric of the outfit dance, “Our little friend here survived my little mission a while back! A puppy Preston had no data about!”

What? Agent Preston? Puppy? “WHAT?!?!”

“What, you don’t remember?! But- Ah, ohh, yeah I see. That was on audio – you’re probably more the visual kind of person, eh? Or is this a different universe? Hey, do you know an old lady with a-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he shouted back, but as a huge spike-studded tail landed on the street between them and cracked open the asphalt with the motion, he didn’t get an answer and waiting for one right here might be a bad idea.

The blow must’ve hit the water supply, because a fine spray rained down on the street and Peter quickly hurried to swing away as the huge _thing_ turned around to hit the red dots to his feet with its… paws? Hands?

However Deadpool stayed where he was, raising his arms and waving at the thing, “COME TO PAPA!” he heard him shout. Was he crazy? Well, crazier than normal?

Peter watched him swing the skirt of that outfit and twirl on the spot until two pairs of eyes turned his way and the huge body moved back, gaining momentum for the next blow. Peter’s eyes widened and he already wanted to change directions when the claw-paw closed in on Deadpool, ready to squeeze him to pulp and- stopped?

No, not really stopped. The limb seemed to shrink and then… dissolved into pink jello. Ewwwww.

Whatever Deadpool had done, it quickly worked its way through the whole organism, flooding the street with the pink slime. Peter shivered at the thought what that might be and landed at the wall of a building, where the stuff wouldn’t reach him.

He watched in disgust how it spread down the street, looking like molten strawberry shake, but definitely not smelling like it. His stomach turned. From the puddle that had been Glosbe the Gross a second ago, Deadpool emerged, shaking his limbs to get himself somewhat clean, something that looked like a hairspray can in his left hand. 

“WHAT the hell is that?!”

“Nano-Catalyst!” he gave back happily, twirling the can in his fingers and pocketing the thing like a revolver, “With regards from our favorite acronym-boyband S.H.I.E.L.D. Glad I kept this bad boy, eh?”

Peter was about to make incomprehensible noises at that - because seriously, he was carrying around biochemical weapons?! – when Deadpool beat him to it.

“Naaaaww, noo,” he complained loudly, running his palm over the side of the outfit, where three big tears were visible, “I can’t have anything nice!”

Peter was a little dumbfounded, probably from the smell of dissolved beast cadaver filling his nostrils, but he couldn’t avert his eyes from the sight of Deadpool lamenting the “loss of his favorite” since he “just got it”.

On his list of strangest days, this one might get a podium finish. He shook his head, crawling down the wall a bit, while Deadpool took the outfit off and tossed it into some empty boxes stacked right next to a trash bin.

Peter’s eyes followed the bundle of fabric. “Sorry for you and that… _outfit_.”

“Nah, don’t worry your sweet head, I got others,” he shrugged and wiped off the pink slime, “You gonna stay until S.H.I.E.L.D. got a chance to vacuum that?”

Mirroring the shrug, he tore his gaze from the red and black bunch of fabric and looked at Deadpool, “Yeah, they owe me a barf bag.”

Deadpool laughed at that and already fished in his pockets for the communicator, while Peter’s eyes already wandered back to that outfit.

~

Finally at home, Peter had kicked the door shut behind himself and had flopped down face first onto his bed, a ball of fabric clutched in his fist.

He really didn’t know why he had done what he had done.  
There was no logical reason why he’d fished Deadpool’s cheerleader outfit out of that box and had taken it home with him.

In fact, there were only reasons why one wouldn’t do that. First of all, it was Deadpool’s outfit - meaning that thing was probably gory and sweaty and what not. If Deadpool had treated that thing anything like his suit, getting it to dry cleaning would be tossing money out of the window. Burning it might be an option.

At least the 100%-not- strawberry-milkshake-liquid had dripped off the moment he had taken it from the boxes.

The second thing was, it had been thrown away for a reason: it was ripped and stained.

And thirdly for _what_ reason in the whole world would Peter need it??

But now, the bundle sat on his small coffee table, a slightly damp monument of the word ‘WHY’. Peter was slumped down onto the couch, his head resting in his hands. His mind felt it like it was racing a mile a minute and being frozen at the same time and a dull ache started to spread from his nape. He’d like to complete the picture of despair with a glass of whiskey for dramatic purposes, but firstly Peter didn’t drink and secondly even if he did he couldn’t afford spending money on stuff like that.

But maybe tea would help.

Yes, tea.

Huffing heavily, Peter got up and, after a moment of a mental argument, reached for the filthy bundle of fabric. If that thing was now in his flat, he could at least try to get it somewhat clean. Deadpool once mentioned alka seltzer and lemon would get rid of blood stains. Wherever he knew that from…

~

The tea didn’t help, but rummaging through the kitchen Peter at least found a bowl he could throw away after soaking the cheerleader outfit overnight.

When he was walking into the kitchen the next morning, hair still wet from his shower and a towel thrown over his shoulder, it smelled like iron and the water in the bowl looked a lot more like a very bloody broth. Peter shivered, his stomach turning at the sight that early in the morning.

He spent the rest of the morning rinsing the outfit in his tub, sitting on the lid of the toilet and the shower head in hand, toothbrush half hanging out of his mouth. Witness the spectacular adventures of the amazing Spider-Man…

When the water running from the wet pile was finally colorless and not rusty orange anymore, Peter wrung it out and left it over the rim of the tub to dry.

He left his apartment going through the discussion that played on repeat since yesterday; an endless circle of why-questions ending with ‘Why did you take it in the first place?’ which Peter couldn’t answer.

During the late evening, the thing found its way onto Peter’s desk – having it in the bathroom made him itchy with the feeling of not having tidied up his flat since there was still laundry lying around and putting it into his wardrobe was out of question. So it landed on the pile of torn Spider-Man suits that he didn’t find the time and quiet to repair.

The problem with that was: it still bothered him.

Whenever he started his poor excuse of a laptop to scroll through some photos he’d taken or do literally anything productive, the black and red outfit was always in his peripheral vision, demanding attention. He’d tried to shove it under the pile, but he still knew it was there. He tried working on the couch or on the kitchen counter, with the same result plus occasional back pain.

A great addition to all the sore muscles from his nightly patrols…

The worst thing about this thing, besides the constant question of why the heck did his brain decide he would need this cheerleader outfit in his apartment, was that he heard Deadpool’s chuckle when he looked at it. Or saw his smile. Or smelled the greasy meals they’d shared occasionally.

When he was really trying to concentrate, his eyes were almost automatically drawn to any corner of red and black fabric that stuck out under the pile. Everything about that dress – from the colors to the occasion it had been worn to was so undeniably Deadpool that it hit Peter every time he looked at it.

A few days passed and really, the situation hadn’t gotten any better. Peter was only relieved that he didn’t meet Deadpool somewhere in the city, because he might just have sputtered an incomprehensible string of words. He’d picked up the habit of having the bundle of cheerleader outfit in his lap whenever he was working at his laptop. As stupid as it sounded, but there he was less likely to look at it and let himself be disturbed by whatever thoughts his obviously pretty wrecked mind provided at the sight.

Also it was nice to have something he could busy his fingers with when he was concentrated. Or when he was thinking.

He didn’t question why it helped. It did. Maybe with the whole mess of bad karma, accidents and misfortune that was his life, it wasn’t his place to judge what his radioactive-spider-DNA polluted brain thought fitting for him.

~

It was a rainy day when things changed again. It seemed like when one thing in Peter’s small world went wrong, everything else followed that lead.

The day had started with him being fired by JJJ _again_ , though this time before Peter could get his paycheck for the week. He had yet to finish his work for the small assistant job at university he’d accepted a while back and of freaking course Spider-Man was again the bad guy of the city, despite him not doing anything to earn that.

The cheerleader dress was in his hands before he could think about taking it. Walking up and down the narrow space between his couch and his desk, he tried to keep his breathing steadily, but soon he buried his face in the fabric, hands fingers rubbing over the soft texture.

This day was just horrible. At it again, fate or fortuna or whatever... He gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the fabric just a bit; why couldn’t he just have a normal life like all the other normal people out there with normal worries and normal solutions in a normal city but no he had all that and extra his super-worries and super-problems and super-villains terrorizing his super-

_zzzziiiiit_

Peter froze on his spot as he heard the tiny sound.

Looking down onto the fabric he was clutching by now, he saw that he had widened one of the already big tears in the outfit.

“Ffffrick,” he muttered under his breath.

Well, the freaking cherry on the cake. Peter slumped down into his desk chair, eyes still fixed on the tear stretching over the side of the cheerleader outfit. Looked just like one of his suits after a nice encounter with Doc Ock. Oh man and on top of everything he really had to sew some of his sui-

Somewhere in the distance, or probably just in the back of his mind, he heard the silent _chink_ of a penny dropping.

He turned his chair to the desk and unfolded the bundle of outfit for the first time. It was horribly crinkled from being washed and just left to dry on a heap of other clothing and the right side of it was torn badly. A piece of the hem was missing and the big letter in the middle of the chest was detaching. But it was nothing Peter couldn’t repair, or hadn’t already gone through with his suits.

Opening his drawers to fetch his sewing supplies, he took a deep breath and a smile slowly formed on his face. At least that was something he could fix.

His hands moved of their own accord and his mind was quickly too concentrated on the task at hand to continue worrying. 

The longer he worked, the better he felt. A weight seemed to slowly lift from his chest, making breathing easier and his heart beat less present in his ears. The tension left his shoulders, the stressed expression melting away to a relaxed, but focused one.

The tears in the fabric closed under his fingertips; seeing his own progress was unbelievably calming.

After reattaching the big white letter on the front, Peter held the dress up and admired his work. Not as good as new – but that had never been the goal, right?

The sky outside had already shifted from its smoky grey-blue to a darker hue, the ocean of lit windows melting into one another with the twinkling stars in the distance.

Satisfied with the result, Peter’s feet carried him over to his bed in the corner of the room, the bundle of red and black fabric pressed under his chin. It still smelled the tiniest bit of lemon and Deadpool’s voice echoed in his head, repeating the advice in that gravely bass he knew so well. The memory of him wearing that outfit still seemed so fresh, like his mind had only waited for an opportunity to replay it again and again, accompanied to that voice’s laughter and humming.

Again, Peter asked himself why he had kept the cheerleader outfit, the same conversation he had had with himself over the past few days repeating in his head once more:

There was no logical reason why he’d fish Deadpool’s cheerleader outfit out of a box and take it home with him.

In fact, there were only reasons why one wouldn’t do that. First,, it was Deadpool’s outfit. Second, it had been thrown away. Third, for what reason would Peter need it?

Only reasons why one wouldn’t do that. But one. One reason why one would do that…

The realization made him sit up, the dress still pressed to his chest. It wasn’t only about the dress. It was about Deadpool wearing it, how he had looked and played with the hem of the skirt and… and about Peter really liking that. The smile in Deadpool’s voice when he’d greeted Peter. The confidence with which he had worn it.

It was because of him.

He was back on his feet before he the thought was fully there, already slipping into his suit and pulling on his mask before the stupidly broad grin could fully bloom on his face.

Grabbing the outfit with his one hand, he already swung himself over the windowsill with his other.

Finding one person in a city with over eight million inhabitants if you didn’t know their address and couldn’t call them seemed impossible, but Peter had spent enough time with Deadpool to know that he didn’t sleep very well and liked to hang around on the rooftops close to his favorite restaurants, so he wouldn’t frighten the teens walking home alone but could keep an eye on his surroundings. Wow, hello specific knowledge - when had he started remembering all that?

Peter didn’t have to search long: already on his way to the third location – a food truck with really excellent kebab, he spotted a red-clad figure sitting on the balustrade of a motel’s balcony.

Landing at the other end, he waved over to the other, “Deadpool!”

He saw turn his head, but when he spotted him, Deadpool jumped off the banister and walked over to him, arms spread wide, “Hey Spidey!! No need to worry, the room isn’t occupied! No killing people, just time!”

“Ha, yeah, okay,” Peter smiled friendly in response, but his momentum from before quickly vanished at the sight of the actual Deadpool in front of him and his fingers twitched slightly. “I… errrr… I’ve been looking for you.” 

"Oh!" he said, surprised. Oh no, Peter could already see him launch into his usual flirty mood and if he did that he wouldn't be able to-

"HERE!" he blurted too loud and pushed the bundle of fabric in Deadpool's arms, "I thought you might wnat it back you said it was your favorite don't thank me you're welome." Deadpool raised an eyebrow at that and looked down at the nudle, before his face, well... his mask lit up as he recognized the piece of clothing“I wouldn’t recommend wearing it out in the city anymore, but…. I…” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I thought you’d like to have it back and if you… wear it at home it should be fine.”

A warmth spread over his cheeks and Peter looked away, avoiding Deadpool’s gaze even though he knew he couldn’t see his blush through the mask.

This is so pathetic, he thought, hands now feeling strangely empty without the outfit. 

“You kept that?” he held the outfit up, looking it over, tracing the fine stitches where it had been torn with gloved fingers, “And… you repaired it…” Even through the mask Peter could see the huge smile on Deadpool’s face from the corner of his eye.

“I- I just thought-“

“You carried that around like Linus and his security blanket!”

He opened his mouth to protest but his certain reply came out weirdly uncertain. “Ah-nn Nooo…” _Persuasive, Parker…_ “I wanted you to have it back. You seemed like you liked wearing it.”

Looking up to the other’s masked face, he saw the smile widen even more. How was that even possible?

Deadpool folded the dress over his arm and stepped a bit closer, body heat immediately tickling on Petr’s skin as he stepped into his personal space.

“You said I shouldn’t wear it outside. But how about I wear it when you go out with me? So you can keep an eye on me and make sure I don’t ruin it again…”

He put his hand on Peter’s shoulder and his blush suddenly spread down his neck and over his collar bones. His skin under Deadpool’s palm tingled pleasantly and a shiver rolled down Peter’s back.

“I…I- I have to go,” he stuttered quickly and already jumped back a little, the smile not vanishing from Deadpool’s face.

“Bye,” Peter blurted as he swung away from the roof, hearing Deadpool shout after him.

“OKAY BABY BOY! FRIDAY IT IS! SAME PLACE SAME TIME!”

The joyful laughter that followed made something behind his ribs flutter happily and Peter silently cursed himself for looking forward to Friday already.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [Schierlingsbecher](http://schierlingsbecher.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat or follow me <3
> 
> Also, feedback is always much appreciated ♥
> 
> Thank you for reading ♥


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